Stan the Man: A Real American Hero
by Loo Dig-E
Summary: It's up to Stan the Man to save the day.


It was a beautiful Summer day outside. The sun was shining, and a soft, cool breeze graced the air. Meanwhile, Smith, Reggie, Reynolds, Sanders, and Jackson were all stuck inside at the CIA HQ. Bullock had forced them to work overtime since they had all fallen terribly far behind on paperwork, canceling their weekend plans, so they were all just hanging around Smith's cubicle doing nothing productive, just like they did most of the time they spent at the office (the reason they were so far behind on paperwork in the first place).

"So we've been canceled!?" Reynolds panicked, jumping to wild conclusions.

"No, no, no. We've just been relocated from FOX to TBS. We haven't been canceled," Smith assured.

"Oh, thank God," Reynolds let out a sigh of relief, "You had me worried there, Smith. I thought I was gonna have to go back to whoring... I can't go back to that life, Smith. I just. I just can't."

"Holy unicorn! Look!" Reggie yelled as he pointed towards the entrance to the office floor.

Smith, Jackson, and Reynolds all let out a gasp when they saw what the human-turned-koala was pointing at. Bullock walked over from his private office to see what all the fuss was about.

"What is it? Did someone say unicorn? If that's Stacy, I told her never to come see me at wo-"

Bullock froze when he saw what everyone else saw.

"Zombies! Dammit! Which one of you idiots forgot to lock the door to the mad science la-!?"

Bullock froze again when the realization hit him, his demeanor switching from angry to blank.

"Oh, right. That was me."

The horde of horrendously slow-moving zombies had backed the group up against a wall and were growing ever closer.

"Good God. They smell like that explosive diarrhea I just had," Jackson cried.

Reynolds turned to Jackson with anger and disgust.

"That was you! You son of a bitch! I was stuck in the stall next to you trying to push brick out my ass when you bombed the room! I thought I was going to vomit!"

"Hey! It was your tuna salad that gave me the runs!" Jackson retorted.

"You mean that tuna salad I thew out two days ago!?"

"It still looked tasty!"

"Guys! Guys! The zombies!" Reginald screamed to bring the two men back.

"Oh, yeah. AAAAHHHH!"

"AAAAHHHH!"

"Oh no! They're going to eat our brains!" Smith yelled.

"BAAAALLLLSSS," all the zombies groaned in unison.

"Oh no! They're going to eat our balls!" Smith corrected.

"I'm too old to die!" Reynolds cried.

"I'm too cute to die!" Reggie cried.

"I'm too broke to die!" Sanders cried.

"I'm too gay to die!" Jackson cried.

"I thought you weren't gay anymore!" Smith cried.

"I don't know! I'm gonna die!"

As usual, when everyone started to wuss out, Bullock stepped up to motivate them.

"No one's going to die! Open fire!"

Suddenly, everyone remembered they were armed and dangerous CIA agents, pulled out their semi-auto pistols, and started shooting, spraying into the heads of the beasts with pinpoint accuracy. In every zombie movie they had ever seen, the only way to kill zombies was by severing the top of the spinal column, or causing massive trauma to the brain. In other words, shooting them in the head.

"Why aren't they dieing!?" Reggie yelled as he continued to put rounds right between the eyes of the approaching monsters, which was quite difficult for the three-foot-tall koala at this range.

"I don't know!" Jackson yelled back.

With adrenaline flowing through his veins, Smith was thinking clear as crystal, and he quickly realized what should have been obvious.

"Wait. They like to eat balls, not brains."

"Everyone, aim for the crotch!" Bullock barked.

Following Bullocks orders, the group lowered their aim, training their sights just below the waists of the undead freaks, a much easier target for Reggie. As soon as the agents started busting balls, the zombies started to drop to the floor, the lifelessness returning to their decaying forms.

When enough of the fiends had been brought down, Bullock could see them entering his office. A feeling of dread worse than any he had ever felt before washed over him and he charged through the opening his team had made, kicking a zombie right in the nuts that entered his path.

"Director, no!" Smith called out, either not being heard or simply ignored.

Bullock burst into his office, hoping to save what he had came for, but it was too late. A group of zombies had divided up his toasted sub-sandwich and chowed down on it for only few moments before spitting it out in disgust.

"NOOOO! YOU MONSTERS! AAAAAAHHHHHH!"

Bullock tore into the nutsacks of the monsters with a storm of bullets, chunks of testicles splaying across the wall behind them. When they were all down, muddled in a heap of rotten flesh, Bullock rushed down to the side of his discarded sandwich.

"WHY!? WHY COULDN'T YOU HAVE TAKEN ME INSTEAD!? CURSE YOU SANDWICH GOD!"

By that time Smith had reached Bullock's side. He gasped at the horror of the scene before him; the sandwich regurgitated and spread across the floor.

"Oh no."

"They didn't even show her the dignity of finishing her," Bullock let out weakly, his heart broken from the loss of such a good sandwich.

Smith understood Bullock's dismay, but there was no time to grieve. More zombies had already entered the room, but were quickly cut down by gunfire from Jackson, shot through their butt-holes from behind.

"Come on! We've gotta get to the anti-zombie supply closet!" Jackson called out through the doorway after clearing it out.

A lone crawler managed to sneak up on Jackson as he watched Smith help Bullock pull himself together from the shock of what he had just seen. Before he could respond, the beast pulled itself up his leg and started munching on his soft, salty balls, bringing Jackson down to the ground, screaming in agony.

"I didn't sign up for this!" Jackson cried out as the zombie sunk its teeth deep into his crotch.

"Actually, you did," Bullock corrected having snapped out of his dismay, "It says right in the job description,'you may be responsible to fight hordes of zombies.'"

"Oh. Okay... AAAAAHHHH! I signed up for this!"

Smith brought his foot down on what remained of the crawler's rotten testicles.

"And stay down," Smith growled before kicking the monster aside.

Bullock stepped up next to Jackson, gun in hand.

"Sorry, Jackson, but you're infected now. I'm going to have to put you down."

"What!? But we have a vaccine!"

"Sorry. Can't take that chance," Bullock quipped like it was no big deal, just before he put one right between Jackson's eyes. Instant death.

Just to be sure, Smith also put two rounds in his sack, one for each nut.

The rest of the team had made it to Smith and Bullock's side, and gave a quick moment of silence for their fallen comrade as the zombies inched ever closer. Reggie pulled out some bagpipes and started playing a tribute.

As the five remaining agents payed their respects to the fallen hero, a zombie made its way over to them and dove at Sanders, sinking its jaws into his nuts.

Bullock scolded Sanders as he screamed in agony.

"Sanders, please! Show some respect for your fellow agent who I just murdered..."

Sanders continued to scream.

"...Sanders, please..!" Bullock scolded again as Sanders still continued to scream, his juices quite the tasty treat for the merciless ball buster.

Bullock aimed his gun right at Sanders' screaming face.

"...Sanders, I swear to God, if you don't shut up right now, I'll put a bullet in your head..."

Sanders kept on screaming, completely unaware of Bullocks commands, the pain too much to bare.

"...All right. That's it..."

Bullock emptied the rest of his current clip into Sanders and the zombie munching on his testis.

"...And just for that, no moment of silence for you." Bullocks spit with disdain, glaring daggers at Sanders' lifeless corpse.

After they finished paying their respects to Jackson, they team bolted towards the nearest staircase, heading down to the basement with Bullock taking the lead.

"Double-time, men! We need to get to the anti-zombie supply closet!"

The four remaining agents made it to the door to the stairwell, bursting through only to find zombies already blocking the way. It seemed they were trapped.

"Oh no! What do we do!?" Reggie cried out, hands clasping his cute little cheeks.

Smith immediately sprung to action.

"I have an idea."

He charged up to one of the zombies, shooting it in the nuts as he went. It collapsed forward into his arms as it died, and in one swift motion, he caught the beast and flung the both of them off the stairwell, falling all the way down through the center of the spiraling staircase, using the zombie like a cushion to soften the impact of the ground. It worked.

"I made it! Come on!" Stan yelled up the stairwell as he regained his footing and brushed himself off, moving out of the way of whoever came down next.

First Bullock came down. He was fine.

Then Reggie came down. He was fine.

Then Reynolds came down. He was not fine. When he landed, there was a terrible crunch and cries of pain.

"Reynolds, what happened!?" Reggie asked.

"I think... I think both my legs are broken..."

The team could hear the moans of the zombie horde getting closer.

"...They're coming. You have to go on without me," Reynolds managed to say through gritted teeth, the pain in his legs almost too immense to talk.

"Okay. See ya." Reggie replied casually with a quick wave just as Bullock and Smith had already started to leave. He stopped himself just as he started to turn.

"Oh. Almost forget..." Reggie said right before he shot Reynolds twice in the balls, eliciting a crazed scream.

"...Sorry man."

"It's... okay," Reynolds replied weakly before drifting off into unconsciousness.

Bolting through the barren, gray hallways towards the anti-zombie supply closet, the three remaining agents were stopped just a few meters short of their destination by a wall of undead nutcrackers.

Once again, Smith immediately sprung to action.

"I have another idea."

"What are you doing!? Stan!? STAAAAAAN!" the koala yelled as Smith picked him up and tossed him down the hallway to the right, drawing the zombies away from the door to the supply closet, allowing Smith and Bullock to barge inside and seal the door behind them.

"Good thinking, Smith. Quick on your feet. I like that in an agent."

"Thank you, sir."

"Yes. Just don't try that on me."

"Wouldn't dream of it, sir."

"You'd better not. And I'll be sure to check. Remember, I have access to your dreams."

"Really?" Smith asked with a bewildered look on his face.

"Oh for the love of. Does nobody read the damn contract before signing it!" Bullock cried, throwing his hands up in resignation.

"It's like fifty-gillion pages."

"Oh whatever. It doesn't matter. Come on, let's suit up."

The two stepped into separate automated outfitting stations and received their anti-zombie loadouts: fully-enclosed exosuits with armor plating designed to resist bladed attacks, such as the bite of a zombie, and a full array of plasma weapons that would burn the infectious creatures into a non-biohazardous state.

Smith and Bullock both stepped out of their stations; smooth, black and blue plasma rifles in-hand; donned in their sleek, black powered armor with the white letters 'CIA' printed on the front and 'BAMF' on the back.

"Get some," Smith whispered.

Bullock accessed the cameras right outside the closet through his HUD. The zombies were a few dozen meters down the hall, feasting on Reggie's furry, koala balls.

"VENGENCE!" Bullock screamed as he and Smith rushed out of the supply closet and started laying into the undead freaks with their rifles on full-auto; bluish-purplish streams of superheated plasma burning them into chunky piles of charred meat. Not three seconds later, they had cleared the hallway.

An alert popped up in the remaining two agents' HUDs.

"The hypermutated zombies. They've escaped too," Smith gasped.

"Dammit! Which one of you idio- ahhhhhh that's right... Well, off we go. There's much to do. We can't let those freaks leave this facility."

With that, Bullock initiated the lockdown procedures, sealing the headquarters from the inside and out.

"Wouldn't it have been a good idea to do that as soon as you found out about the zombies?" Smith questioned.

Bullock shrugged his shoulders.

"Probably."

Blood-curdling screeches were heard far down the hall. The hypermutants were fast approaching.

"Well, looks like they found us. Ready, Smith?"

"Ready, sir."

A herd of the sickly greenish-reddish creatures rounded the corner and charged toward the two agents. Their massive, black eyes bulged out of their heads like unnatural growths. Their razor-sharp fangs dripped with terrible venom, slurped up by their tentacle-like tongues. Their nightmarish claws carved deep into the walls, floor, and ceiling as they surged forward.

On the other end of the hall, the standard zombies had all made their way down the staircase and formed an ever-approaching wave though which there could be no retreat. That many zombies all attacking at once would be able to penetrate the armor of their exosuits.

"Now this is more like it. Eh, Smith?"

"A good death, sir. A good death indeed."

"Focus on the hypermutants first."

With that, Smith and Bullock both opened fire on the hypermutants, dropping as many as they could while slowly backing into the wave of zombies on their six to keep up the distance between them and the more deadly opponents.

That distance quickly disappeared.

"MOVE!" Bullock yelled just as the hypermutants were in the air soaring towards the two agents with a massive leap.

Smith lurched forward right under the jumping hypermutants, powersliding with his exosuit's boosters. He turned back just in time to see Bullock had been caught by one of the hellish monsters and was already torn to shreds.

"DIRECTOR, NOOOOOO!"

Smith received an alert through his HUD. Bullock's exosuit was about self-destruct, as it was programmed to do when its occupant's vitals flatlined.

Smith hit the deck just before Bullock's exosuit self-destructed. Charred remains from the hypermutants splattered all across the hall in the tiny, yet powerful explosion.

Smith jumped up before the dust settled, his exosuit switching to zombie-seeking vision, ignoring the smoke and ash as if it weren't there, highlighting the hostiles in red.

"Fuck it," Smith murmured to himself.

In less than ten seconds, Smith had sterilized all the remaining zombies, who had stupidly bunched together in the hallway, attempting to overrun Smith horde-style; a futile tactic since Smith had acquired the anti-zombie loadout, but a ballsy one for sure.

"They may not have had brains, but they sure had balls..." Smith said to the readers.

"...Pun intended."

_Seven days later..._

"You fed me to the zombies you son of a bitch!" Reggie yelled at Smith.

"Hey. It worked." Smith replied causally with a shrug of his shoulders.

"Fuck you, man! They chowed down on my balls! My baaaallllsss!"

Smith just shrugged his shoulders again.

"I don't know why you're so upset. It all worked out in the end."

"MY BAAAALLLLSSS, MAN! THEY WERE MUNCHING ON MY BAAAALLLLSSS! DO YOU KNOW HOW BAD THAT HURTS!"

Reggie stared up at Smith. Fuming with rage, his chest was puffed and his teeth bared.

Smith stared down at Reggie; expressionless. After a few moments of awkward silence, he just shrugged his shoulders once again.

**THE END**


End file.
